


Storm

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Hero and Villain Verse [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Heroes & Heroines, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Something dark is taking hold of him.A companion piece - and sequel to - Spark.





	Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two, and probably won't make much sense on its own. Part one was in Tobirama's perspective - this one is in Madara's.

Their rutting was more wild, frantic, violent than any of their previous couplings.

They had done this countless times before, meeting in the abandoned buildings at the edge of town, fucking out the adrenaline and frustration against the crumbling walls and creaking floors. Darkness their only witness, the air filled with unabated moans and the sounds of flesh on flesh.

The last several months, however, their dances had been softer, less sharp at the edges, more low gasping and soft caresses and whispered affections. Each night found them more and more reluctant to let go, holding on to the lie that was their masks.

There was none of that now.

The wood beam supporting Hurricane’s weight groaned in protest at the snapping hips, Hellfire all teeth and bright-hot fury, Hurricane all desperate pleas and shaking, fingers like claws raking against his lover’s back as he shouts his release.

Even still, desperate and raging as he was, Hellfire found it nearly impossible to let him go, gripping him in the aftermath, shielding him from the world.

He had nearly lost him today. Nearly watched Hurricane die in front of him, shot down by lightning by a filthy weed of a monster, a nothing, a no one - a disgusting bug that had almost killed his lover,  _his_ Hurricane, from him for good.

It took hours to bear the idea of leaving, fighting back the urge to fold his lover in his arms and never let him go. Longer still before he could force himself home, slinking in the shadows lest someone spot and recognize him.

By the time he crawled into bed, dawn was peeking up over the horizon. A chill ran up his spin despite the warmth of his house, eyes flickering wary towards the dark corners of his room.

The shadow was closer.

 

* * *

 

Hellfire had always been able to see the spirits. They used to play with him when he was younger, much to the concern of his older sibling who could not see them. Kodama would lure him into the woods for hours, the little devils high in the treetops dropping acorns down on him - though the nicer ones would bring him flowers in apology, riding on his shoulders and hiding things in his hair for later. Animal spirits brought him food, throwing hissy fits when he would curl his nose up at the carcasses of fish and rabbits, even going as far as to strip the kills to try and tempt him.

Lately, however, he had been seeing them less and less.

The one that he could never quite make out, never quite bring into focus, was the only constant now, coming ever closer - ever since that day Hurricane had nearly died, ever since Hellfire had called out to the shadow entity for help for the first time.

The power he’d used had not come naturally to him - it took time to realize it was not his own, not some new development as he’d thought. In order to use it, he had to  _ask_  for it, though he only needed to do so in his thoughts. Having a massive skeletal arm at his disposal was useful, to say the least, and the more he called upon it the stronger it became, no longer shattering into ember fragments at the slightest blow. Lifting heavy objects might have never been an issue for him, his body able to withstand more strain than most others, but the new limb made it so much easier.

The entity he called upon came closer still, always present in his periphery, always just out of his physical reach but easing into his mind at a moment’s notice.

At first, it grated on him to know the power was not his own. He knew his greatest sin was pride, and knowing that it was not  _his_  made him hate using it. But the appendages made fights easier, kept his own arms free, and lifting larger objects more manageable. Their self-appointed jobs were too dangerous not to take any and all advantages at their disposal.

He had always been rather resilient, able to survive attacks that would crush a normal person. It lead to what most would call self-destructive habits, jumping head first into danger, more willing to sacrifice his own safety than those of others. Lately, it had become instinctual to call upon the entity for help, relying more on its strength than his own, letting it do more of the work for him.

It made everything easier in battle. The blue fire, the white bone, intimidated and startled opponents. The extra reach meant he no longer relied on close-combat, despite his love for exchanging physical blows. He could also protect his companions from afar, making it easier to focus on his own battles.

But part of him knew those weren’t the main reasons. He enjoyed the rush of thick power through his veins, the absolute force at his disposal. The raw energy he could command. He craved it, his body a little more empty every time it left, a little more willing to use it the next time his mask was set in place.

And the shadow loomed ever closer.

 

* * *

 

Living near a fault line at least meant constant employment, though Hellfire would have certainly been happier if he were actually getting  _paid_  for his help. Evacuating part of the city had certainly not been high on his weekend to-do list, no matter how necessary it was. At least moving rubble took less concentration than battling giant slugs like the ones from a week before - he shuddered at the thought, shoving a large chunk of concrete out of his way, trying to not think of the globs of slime he was  _still_  having to clean out of his hair.

Sweat stung his eyes, and he took a moment to breathe, looking around to assess the situation. He could see Mokudai in all his too-tight suit glory doing his best to support the collapsing apartment building, tone high-pitched as he begged for help from the spirits he couldn’t actually see. A small sprite had attached itself to the back of his cloak, blinking lazily at the two nymphs seated and chatting just off to the side. They sent dark looks his way, not once lifting a finger to aid him even as they grew strong roots to help his friend.

He didn’t bother trying to make sense of the garbled chattering of the nymphs. Seeing them had never made it easy for him to communicate with such creatures, though their relationships had never been tinted with hostility before.

A loud crack, groaning of concrete and wood, pieces falling around them - and the building starts to fall.

And Mokudai was right in its path.

He couldn’t reach him in time. Dust clouded the area even as he jolted forward, the ground shaking, shouts echoed but sounded far too distant. The damned fool was strong, but his thick skull wouldn’t save him here.

A shadow in his vision, desperation shooting through him - he had to get close enough, had to save him, couldn’t lose someone else, reaching even as falling glass tore at his clothes and skin, even as he saw the rubble about to crush his companion, his friend,  _he had to save him_ -

Agony. Searing pain in his blood. His vision white, and then blue flaming energy around him. Breathing labored, body shaking. When he finally could see again, he’s on his knees, nails scrapping into the ground, bloody. Mokudai was at his side, voice distant and panicked. A hissing sound just at the edge of the energy, the small sprite spitting at the white structure in the flames.

He rolled his eyes towards the bones connected to the usual arm, the effort leaving him dizzy. It resembles a rib cage - half of one, at least. A hand found his face, found the oozing liquid leaking out of his left eye, but the words still made no sense to the swirling weight of his empty mind.

Another person rushed towards them, white hair dyed grey from the dust, red eyes wide and searching. Hurricane shouted something at them, vaulting over what looked like the remains of a dresser - and was flung backwards as he touched smoking blue energy, sliding against the ground until he hit another piece of unrecognizable and broken furniture.

He saw him try again. Felt the moment he stepped too close, something in his head screaming at the contact. He fought against the need to push, eyes shut and sweat dripping off his face.

The next hand that cupped his face was more familiar. A soothing voice, calm pushing through the storm, white noise fading into the sounds of Hurricane speaking to him, talking him down.

Bones disappeared in ember and ash. The pain became unbearable, his head pounding, unwelcome sounds tearing out of his throat. Blood leaked profusely from his eye, his vision blurred and eyes burning.

On some level, he recognized Mokudai mother henning about him, flailing here and there, spewing high-pitched nonsense. His head was soon rested against his lover’s chest, one arm holding him while the other hand checks for wounds. Some words made more sense than others, his low voice easing the ache of his thoughts until he can actually understand what was being said about him.

“...don’t know yet what caused it, your healing might make it worse.”

“M’fine.” He wasn’t fine. His head hurt, his arms hurt, breathing hurt,  _existing_  hurt. But he hated the thought of the two of them fretting over him like some useless child. Supporting his own weight took more effort than he would ever admit, but he leaned back anyway, cradling his head in one hand when it felt like it might fall off.

“You are  _not_  fine, and don’t bother trying to hide it.” The tone should have been sharper. He shook his head at the worry, doing his best to push himself back to his feet.

“I’ll be fine. Just. Need to rest my eyes a bit. Happens.”

“ _What do you mean,_ it happens _? What happens?”_ Hellfire glared over at the obnoxious idiot, gesturing towards the blood streaming down his cheek in response.

Much to his displeasure, that only made the fretting worse, a flood of questions barreling over him at a volume that was near ear-splitting with his head hurting as it was.

“Are you talking about your eye? What’s wrong with your eyes? Have they bled like that before?  _Why_  have you never brought this up? And what about the whole collapsing in pain thing? Do you do  _that_  often too? What about-”

“ _Would you just_ -” His own voice had him flinching, and he had to take a moment to calm down, not wanting to hurt himself further. “No, they don’t usually  _bleed_. They just hurt. And my head. Migraines. It’s not a big deal.”

A hand on his shoulder had him turning, only to sigh as it brushed through his hair, stopping to scratch at his scalp. Normally, he wouldn’t lean so heavily on Hurricane in public, but he knew his weaknesses too well, and his body ached with the effort of standing. And the fingers felt nice in his hair.

“Your eyes don’t normally bleed?” Talking seemed too difficult at the moment, so he shook his head, letting Hurricane support his weight. “Hellfire, do you think it might have been the new addition to the bone structure that caused the bleeding?”

Something twitched in him at the question, but he ignored it, shrugging instead. He didn’t want to think about it. All he wanted was to sleep, and maybe drag Hurricane with him to pet his hair some more, soothing as the motion was.

“You shouldn’t use it for a while, just in case. There’s no telling what sort of damage it’s done.”

The statement tasted of poison. He jerked away, every piece of him feeling  _betrayed_  by the suggestion.

Why it felt like that, he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what came over him, what caused him to react so strongly, to spit fire and venom at his companions. It was like something tore his body open and forcibly poured sun-hot fury into his veins, his conscious fogged by blinding rage.

He didn’t remember what he said to them. Didn’t remember leaving, didn’t know when or how he made it home, what happened after that.

He only remember the look of pained confusion on Mokudai’s face, the poorly concealed concern and  _fear_  on Hurricane’s.

It was the first time in nearly two years that they didn’t meet in the abandoned buildings, his only company that night the looming shadow now at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what part of their story I should post next. I've got several plans for this AU (going into the backstory of their names, going further down what's going on with poor Madara, etc) but not sure which I should explore next. Hmmmm, decisions...


End file.
